Page 1 of The Bloody Ruin Asylum & Taproom (Sam Quinn #7)

One

I Could Get Used to This

Flying private was the shit. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. As I’d never flown commercial, my opinion might not mean much, but I’d seen movies and video clips. I knew how tight and uncomfortable normal planes were.

Maybe I shouldn’t say I knew. The first time I’d ever flown on a plane was in this one last year when Clive and I went to New Orleans.

Much of my childhood had been spent in a car with my mother, driving from one cheap, short-term rental to another, trying to escape my homicidal sorcerer of an aunt.

At seventeen, with both parents gone, my body covered in scars and more trauma than I thought I’d ever be able to recover from, I was dumped in San Francisco where I hid from the world in my bookstore and bar.

So I was certainly no expert on air travel, but Clive—my husband and vampire (that part’s important)—had a private jet. When you’re a vampire, you have very specific no-sun needs when you travel. It was just the two of us in the posh cabin, which meant I could do whatever I wanted.

“Darling, do sit down. We often experience turbulence over the Rockies.” Clive was mostly on his phone, but it didn’t keep him from watching me pace around the cabin and stretch.

My leg was finally out of its cast. Clive’s maker Garyn had broken my femur in a fight. Werewolf genes meant I healed faster than most, but I’d still been laid up for too long. Not being able to run every day had had me crawling up the walls. Fergus too.

Our Irish Wolfhound pup was my running buddy.

Clive started taking him out for me, but it wasn’t the same.

The poor little guy—if one could call a one-hundred-pound dog little—was desperately out of breath every time Clive brought him back.

When I took him running, we stopped to sniff cool things or get drinks of water.

Wolfhounds weren’t known for long-distance running, and I wanted him to have fun.

I think Clive was more of a if-we’re-going-to-run-let’s-run kind of partner.

“I miss Fergus,” I said, dropping back into my chair.

Clive checked his watch. “We’ve been in the air three hours. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Says you. He could be wasting away, heartsick at my absence. You don’t know.” Poor little guy was probably staring out the window, waiting for me to come back.

“Fyr has him, so he’s likely driving Fyr’s dog crazy by stealing all her toys and lounging in her bed.”

I smiled. “Yeah, that sounds right.” Fyr was Fergus’ original owner.

He had kindly allowed us to adopt the eight-week-old pup.

Fyr was also a dragon shifter and a bartender at The Slaughtered Lamb.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and considered.

“I should call and check.” When Clive didn’t respond, I glanced over.

One eyebrow up, he gave me a look that told me exactly what he thought of that idea.

“He could miss me,” I contended.

“I’m sure he does, but it’s not yet five in the morning and Fyr works nights. Perhaps we could let them all sleep and you could check in later in the day.”

“I guess.” I pocketed my phone and sat, dejected.

Clive continued his work while I reclined my seat and looked out the window at nothing but blackness.

My phone buzzed and I checked it. An image from Fyr.

I pulled it up and saw Fergus snuggled in with Wolfhound big sister Alice, both fitting on her huge bed.

Grinning, I glanced over and found Clive watching me.

“Better?” he asked.

I nodded. “Thank you.”

The plane bounced. Here was the turbulence I’d been warned about. “Hey, are you done talking to people?”

He put his phone aside. “For a while. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

I waved a hand. “Not that. I know we’re late showing up for this shindig because we had to wait for the cast to come off. Hopefully my making us late isn’t costing you points in the Counselor competition.”

He stood, leaned over my chair, and kissed me thoroughly. “First, it’s less a competition than a series of meetings and interviews.” He dropped back into his seat. “And I’d wait until the end of time for you,” he added, hand to his heart.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re competing with other Master vamps for the North American Counselor gig. Therefore, ipso facto, it’s a competition. Plus alliteration.”

He relaxed into his seat across the narrow cabin from me and said, “I concede the point. Second, you were only injured in the first place due to vampire politics and posturing. And we’re now headed to Budapest for more of the same.

If anyone is to blame for your broken bones and being separated from Fergus, it’s me. ”

I lifted my left hand and flashed him my blue diamond wedding ring. “Partners. You’ve had to deal with a lot of my crazy crap too.”

“It is my honor and privilege to deal with any and all of your crazy crap, darling.”

He was gorgeous—blond hair, gray eyes, chiseled features—but his outside was nothing compared to his inside. “I love you, you know.”

His gaze softened. “And I love you.”

I nodded once. “Good. Now, you’ve only told me bits and pieces.

We have time and I really want to know exactly what the Guild is.

I know you said it’s a governing body for vamps, but are they, like, vampire cops or more of an advisory council?

” I glanced out the window again. “And is it cool now for me to get up and get some food?”

There was no air steward, as this was a hush hush flight. There was a pilot and the two of us. That was it.

Clive stood. “Let me. I have excellent balance and my leg wasn’t recently broken.” He went to the galley area and picked up a white card. “It’s a long flight. Would you like breakfast, lunch, or dinner?”

Hmm, according to my watch it was breakfast, but I hadn’t slept all night. “Dinner, I think.”

He scanned the card. “Your meal is from Maxfield’s and you have an ahi poke appetizer with a main of grilled chicken, sweet and spicy Brussels sprouts, and fondant potatoes.”

Shaking my head at the ridiculousness of such a fancy meal on a plane, I said, “What? No dessert?”

He turned the card toward me. “And a vanilla bean crème br?lée for dessert.”

My stomach rumbled. “No time for jokes. I want all of it now, please.”

He loaded up a tray for me, pulling items from the refrigerator and the warming thingy. It wasn’t an oven—I didn’t think. Honestly, I didn’t know or care. I moved to the small table opposite the one Clive had been using.

He placed a tray with silverware wrapped in a napkin and a tall glass of water in front of me, sitting on the bench seat beside me.

“Sorry, darling. I hadn’t realized I was being so circumspect with information.

Most vampires don’t even know the Guild exists.

” His expression turned thoughtful. “Even now, I’m finding this conversation very uncomfortable.

” He shook his head. “You’re my mate. You’ve a right to everything I have, including information. ”

I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or himself.

“I had to explain it to Russell,” he continued, “when he ascended to Master of the City, so you’d think this would be easier.”

“If it’s a super confidential, I’ll-have-to-kill-you-if-I-tell-you kind of deal, don’t worry about it. I don’t want you to break a vampy NDA.” The poke was delicious and finished too soon.

He rubbed his hands over his face and then shook his head again.

“No. You need to know what you’re walking into.

All right, when vampires are made, we stay with our makers until we understand this new life and have control over our new urges, particularly blood lust. We must know and live by our laws.

If we don’t, it’s our maker’s responsibility to put us down.

It’s far too dangerous to have rogue vampires.

For humans, of course, but mostly for us.

We will always put ourselves first in this equation.

Humans outnumber us by quite a substantial margin.

We’re helpless during the day. If humans believed we were real instead of the stuff of horror films, they would hunt us all down.

We’ve kept our existence a secret for millennia and we’ve done so by staying well-hidden and killing anyone who suspects. ”

“Bloodthirsty.”

He patted my thigh. “By definition, love, yes.”

I paused midbite when he went quiet, but he finally continued.

“The training and information comes from our sires. They teach us how to survive in this world, including the need to keep us corralled in nocturnes. If we were off on our own, it would be far more difficult to police ourselves. The nocturne system was created about six hundred years ago in order for the Guild to keep an eye on us.”

“And none of the Masters told their people, ‘Sorry, guys, these damn Guild jerks are making me watch you like a hawk, so stop killing tourists?’” I asked.

“Ah, I forgot to mention that the Guild has spies everywhere,” he said, running a hand down my back before resting it on my hip.

“Okay, but do they really or is that just what they want people to fear?”

Chuckling, he kissed my cheek. “One of the things I love about you is your suspicious nature. It’s true enough. Vampires who flout our laws disappear. Our secrecy is paramount.”

I swallowed a bite of fondant potatoes and almost wept. So. Flipping. Good. “So the Guild has its own goon squad?”